


A Very Destiel Halloween

by SexuallyAttractedToFanFiction



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Halloween, Holiday Weirdness, Human Castiel, Humour, Little Brother Gabriel, M/M, Minor Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Not a Case Fic Exactly, Sassy Castiel, Teen AU, Teen Castiel (Supernatural), Teen Dean Winchester, Young Gabriel (Supernatural), Young Sam Winchester, ghost hunt - Freeform, sam isn't a hunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 12:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12457860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SexuallyAttractedToFanFiction/pseuds/SexuallyAttractedToFanFiction
Summary: Sam wants to go trick or treating. Of course Sam wants to go freaking trick or treating. The one holiday of the year that actually encourages monsters to walk among us, and he can't stay inside for once in his damn life.However, it is an excuse to see Cas...His house is warm and smells like pumpkin and he just keeps smiling in that way that makes it feel like everything will be right in the world.Too bad about the ghost.





	A Very Destiel Halloween

“We are not goin’ trick or treating Sam.”

“Oh come on Dean, it’s Halloween, everyone goes out on Halloween.” Dean’s unimpressed look did nothing to dissuade his brother. “I’ll give you half my candy.”

Was he seriously bribing him with candy, _seriously?_ Damn, he was good. Dean summoned the last of his willpower, seamlessly (he hoped) slipping into older brother mode.

“We ain’t got money for costumes Sammy, can’t trick or treat without a costume.”

Sam’s eyes lit up, that ‘hah got you’ expression on his face that clearly meant Dean had just stumbled into a carefully placed trap, in other words; he was doomed.

“Wayyy ahead of you.” Sam held up a tattered pair of jeans, holes that Dean vividly remembered repairing just months ago now gaping wide, and new ones ripped beside them. A shirt that was in a similar state of disrepair was held in his other hand. “And before you say anything, I was growing out of them; I didn’t just rip up my good clothes. Come on dude, I bought a makeup kit and everything.”

He rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to make any jokes about Sam wearing makeup, just this once.

“Fine.”

“Err, I was wondering, could you do my makeup? Nothing fancy, just some basic zombie stuff, if you need guidelines I found this woman on the internet who does walkthroughs for-“

“Yeah yeah, I’ll do your stupid ass makeup; just never tell anyone I said that.”

He waved away the laptop when it was offered, he could do this.

Sam squirmed throughout. His brother had never been the type to sit still for long periods of time. He supposed that was a good thing, it would help with the reflexes when their father decided it was time. He pushed those thoughts aside quickly. They weren’t there yet, and if this was his last Halloween before things changed, he would make it count.

Dean did a freaking amazing job, if he did say so himself. He couldn’t help smiling, despite everything, as Sam did a horrifying, and not in the right way, zombie impression. Acting was never the kid’s strong suit. He didn’t care though, as the unfairly tall little twerp bounded along, doing about as good a job of looking dead as a hummingbird on its third cup of coffee, Dean found he couldn’t _stop_ smiling.

It was only when his stomach started to grumble at the tenth house they’d visited that he realised he’d eaten nothing all day. It had been Dad’s turn to shop, so of course they had nothing in the house. He gritted his teeth, mood slightly soured by the realisation that he was starving, and probably would be until the shops opened the next day, if there was even any money left for that. Sweets would only go so far, and despite the offer, he really didn’t want to take anything from Sam. Someone should be happy on Halloween. Dean certainly wasn’t going to be, not when he was keeping his eyes peeled for the trouble he was sure would find them, spine tingling with the knowledge that if any night was dangerous for a Winchester, it was tonight.

It didn’t matter if Sam thought Dean was scared to go through the graveyard in the dark, pride wasn’t important, not now. He _was_ scared, so it wasn’t a lie, just a half truth. Yet another half truth. One last Halloween, two if he was lucky, then Sam would understand.

His hand tightened on the gun in his belt as every screaming kid passed them. Just trick or treaters, he told himself, they weren’t really monsters, but they could be, that was the kicker. All it would take was a single genuine creature mixed in with the fake ones. He always wondered how much went unnoticed today. How many real vampire attacks. How many hauntings that people thought were just really good special effects until it was too late. He just had to breathe. He just had to keep an eye on Sam. He just had to be ready for a fight.

Dean’s heart lightened slightly as they walked up to the Novak house. It made sense to go past there, sure it was a bit of a long way around, but it was in a nice neighbourhood that would have nice candy, and if they were in the area it would be rude not to pop in, right? That’s what he told Sam, and he was sticking with the story. If he got to see Cas, at least he was getting something out of this ordeal.

“Hey Cas.” Dean smiled as the other boy opened the door, his parents clearly away again. His hair was messier than usual, if that was possible, and there was a smear of pumpkin guts on the side of his face. Dean fought the urge to reach out and wipe it away.

“Hello Dean. I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“This little asshole decided he wanted to play dress up and beg sweets from strangers, and I just can’t say no to that face.” Dean obnoxiously ruffled Sam’s already mussed up hair, grimacing when his hand came away covered in fake blood.

“Shut up jerk.”

“Bitch.” Dean grinned.

Cas indulgently watched the exchange, having learnt from experience that it was safest not to interrupt the bickering.

“You look very scary Sam.” Dean was grateful for the lie, he didn’t think Sam could look scary to save his life, but the compliment made his smile widen.

“Dean did my makeup.”

He rounded on Sam in outrage.

“You promised not to tell anyone!”

“I never said that.”

“Well...” Dean grabbed a handful of sweets from Sam’s bag, ignoring Sam’s protests as he opened a chocolate bar and devoured it slightly too quickly.

Cas’ eyebrows lowered in consternation and Dean knew he’d been scuppered. He never seemed to miss anything, not when it came to Dean. It was kinda terrifying.

 “Are you hungry? We don’t have any sweets, but there’s extra pumpkin soup and we were just about to sit down to eat.”

“No, dude, we can’t take your food.” Dean forced himself to grit out. Winchesters didn’t take charity, Winchesters didn’t need anyone, Winchesters were pig headed idiots who were going to starve to death one of these days. He internally cursed himself; the lack of food was making him overly dramatic, again.

“Nonsense. It’ll only go to waste.” Cas leaned in to whisper the rest of the request in his ear, and Dean shivered from something other than the cold. “Please, stay. There’s no chance of me keeping Gabe out of trouble on my own, the distraction will help.”

Dean sighed, incapable of putting up any more of a fight, not when he was this hungry.

“There’s pie.”

Dean hurried into the house and Cas bit back a smile.

“Come on Sam, reckon you’ve got plenty of sweets by now, but if you wanna keep going we can go back out after-“

“No, Dean, it’s fine.”

Dean frowned in confusion at Sam’s grin, rolling his eyes when Sam bounced into the kitchen and promptly took the seat closest to where Gabe was sat staring at a pad of paper.

 “Heya Samalamb, looking horrifying as always.” Gabe said, glancing up from his work.

“Gee, thanks.” Sam actually looked a little bit hurt, huh, this was a development Dean was certain he didn’t like.

“Shh, don’t pout, it’ll wreck the makeup.” Gabe grinned.

“I’m not pouting.” He visibly forced himself to stop pouting.

Cas’ back was shaking with silent laughter as he walked over to the stove, Dean didn’t think either of their brothers had noticed.

“You’re radiant as the day I met you. Happy now?” Gabe winked.

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean coughed, and Sam jumped slightly. Cas pulled bowls from a cupboard and took a pot of soup off the hob, still laughing.

“What’re you doing Gabe?” Sam quickly changed the subject.

Gabe stared back down at the notepad, covered in scribbles and sketches that looked alarmingly similar to a cartoon villain’s plans to destroy the universe.

“Plans to make, eggs to throw.”

“Need any help with that?” Sam volunteered instantly.

“No one is throwing any eggs at anything.” Dean and Cas simultaneously cut in.

“Gotcha brother of mine,” Gabe spoke cheerfully, before lowering his voice to stage whisper, “flour and bog roll it is.” He wiggled his eyebrows, mischief personified, and Sam honest to god giggled.

Cas frowned.

“Just try not to get arrested this time.”

“And don’t get Sammy in trouble.” He trusted Cas, but Gabriel was another matter. The kid was a menace. Admittedly Dean wasn’t exactly the poster child for good behaviour and clean living himself, but everything he did was for the sake of looking after his brother, whereas Gabe just seemed to want to wreak havoc.

“Can’t make any promises Deano.”

Dean sent a warning look his way.

“We’ll be fine Dean.” Sam cut in.

Cas started dishing out soup, placing a bowl on the table in front of Gabriel, who pushed it away with a shake of his head.

“Time’s a wasting Cassie, chaos won’t make itself.”

Gabe stood up, and Sam followed him towards the door, far too eagerly for Dean’s liking.

“Be back by midnight!” Dean called after them, his words met by the slam of the door.

Cas pushed Dean towards a chair, giving him a bowl of soup, which really did smell kinda awesome. He hadn’t even known Cas could cook. Though, honestly, at this point he would have eaten anything.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine, the only person Gabe ever gets into trouble is himself.”

“Don’t know what kind of spell he’s worked on Sammy, but I don’t like it.”

Cas snorted.

“Are you really going to pretend you never had one of those friends as a kid?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” Dean huffed, picking up a spoon, and beginning to shovel food into his mouth.

“Nick.”

Dean nearly choked on his soup.

“You shut your face.”

Cas smiled far too innocently.

“You promised you’d never mention that again.”

He wouldn’t think about it. He absolutely would not dwell on the way he had followed that boy around for weeks, or the way his heart had raced every time he smiled at him, or how utterly crushed he had felt when Nick had turned around and laughed at him, when he’d found out that it had all been a cruel joke. Dammit, he was thinking about it.

“I do not recall ever making such a promise.”

The freaking liar! He had definitely promised not to drag up that particular humiliating experience again. He still didn’t know what had been going on in his head, where that obsession had come from. Well, that was a lie, but he refused to voice it.

“I hate you.” He really wished he could summon more anger, the words just sounded wrong when they were directed at Cas.

“You love me.”

Dean blushed.

“Just like you loved Nick.”

He threw a piece of bread at Cas, which he smoothly ducked, breaking into a laugh that made it impossible for Dean to stay mad.

“Dude, I’m not the only one who made some mistakes in junior high. The name April ring any bells?”

 “She was nice at first!”

Now that was someone he could truly hate. He didn’t mind taking some shit himself, but Cas? He didn’t deserve to be hurt.

 “She tried to stab you.”

Dean had barely managed to stop himself stabbing her right back when he’d found out.

“As I said, at first.”

Was she in jail now? He wasn’t sure, but he thought so. It had all been rumours after that.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Your back catalogue is infinitely worse than mine, and there is nothing you can say to the contrary.”

He didn’t need to strain his mind too much to confirm that statement.

“Well, yeah, but... shut up.”

The lights flickered and Dean froze as a familiar wave of dread coursed through his veins. Cas cursed.

“It keeps doing that.”

His posture shifted, body readying for a fight. _No no no, not here, not now._

“How long?”

Cas raised his eyes in question.

“It’s probably just some faulty wiring.”

“Humour me. How long?”

There was too much tension in his voice for Cas to ignore, he looked worried, but for the wrong reasons.

“It’s been playing up all day.”

“Just today?”

God, he must look like such a weirdo. He didn’t want to scare Cas off, but he couldn’t be complacent, not when there was something bigger at stake.

“On and off for a few months, but it’s been worse recently.”

Dean instinctively reached for the gun in his belt. Cas, fortunately, didn’t notice.

“Are there any cold spots in the house?”

He was scaring him off, he was scaring _Cas_ off. He didn’t want to do this tonight; he didn’t want to wreck the only true friendship he’d ever had.

“I hardly see what that has to do with-“

“Trust me, it’s important.”

Cas’ expression softened. Dean nearly managed to breathe again, nearly.

“Of course I trust you.”

Dean looked at him expectantly.

“The heating is a bit peculiar sometimes, particularly in the attic and some of the bedrooms.”

He nodded grimly, standing up and beginning to search through the cupboards.

 “Dean, are you feeling alright?”

Dammit, but there was no other choice. This was happening, it was happening now and it was happening here and Cas had to know.

“I know how this sounds, and I swear I’m not crazy, but I think your house might be haunted.”

Cas snorted a laugh, disbelief written all over his face.

“Aren’t you an atheist?”

He found a container of rock salt and pocketed it. This was _not_ how he had wanted to spend the evening.

“God don’t enter into this.”

Cas sent him an appraising look.

“You know, if you wanted into my bedroom you could have just asked.”

No one made Dean nervous like Cas, his jokes always hit a little too close to home. If they were jokes. They were probably jokes, right? No way he meant anything by them, and Dean didn’t want them to mean anything, couldn’t want them to.

“No, I-“ Dean stumbled over his words.

The light above their heads exploded, raining down broken glass on the table. He silently thanked the ghost for taking his mind off Cas’ words, he didn’t know what he’d have said, and now he didn’t have to figure out an answer.

“What in the world?”

“Shit, okay, did you buy anything in the last few months? An antique, something second hand.”

Cas was starting to look worried.

“I’m not sure.”

The radio turned on, static filling the kitchen.

“Think.”

Cas’ forehead wrinkled adorably as he thought about it. Wait, no, adorable was not a word he should be using to describe his best friend. _Get it together Winchester, now is not the time_. Cas’ eyes widened.

“My aunt, we got some of her belongings after she died.”

“That’ll be it.”

“So, what? You think aunt Amara is haunting the house?” Cas’ voice was incredulous, even as his posture became defensive, the darkness in the room getting to him.

“My money’s on yes.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Look, I’ve done this before, I know it sounds nuts, but there are things out there, things that-“

Dean ducked as a plate soared through the air, nearly hitting him in the head.

“Where are her things?”

No time for the monsters are real speech, this ghost was angry, things could get real nasty real quick. He’d seen it far too many times before.

“The attic.” Cas said, wide eyed.

Dean grabbed his hand, unthinking, and dragged him up the stairs.

“Dean...” Cas looked down at their joined hands, a question on his lips, drawing Dean’s attention to what he’d done.

He let go of Cas’ hand like he’d been electrocuted. Cas looked slightly bereft, but there was no time to think about this, no time to wonder if maybe-

“Uh, okay, this the attic door?” He asked unnecessarily, just to change the subject, think about something, anything else. Cas nodded in response, his expression settling into something hard and focussed. Right, _focussing_.

They climbed the ladder into the attic, and Dean looked around in dismay.

“Sorry about this, I’m afraid my family doesn’t throw much away.”

“I can see that.” Dean stared at the heaps of boxes and bags, dumped without any organisational pattern he could see. “Please tell me you know where her stuff is.” The sight of it was giving him a headache.

Cas rubbed the back of his neck, in a gesture Dean knew he’d picked up from him, the thought caused a warmth in his chest that he really, really wasn’t okay with.

“I’ve been meaning to sort this mess out.”

“Dude, once we’ve got rid of this ghost, I’m helping you.” Cas’ expression was a mixture of gratitude and guilt, and Dean just wanted to give him a hug. He wondered how long his parents had been away this time, he knew that look far too well, he saw it in Sammy’s eyes every time their father disappeared on a hunt, and he knew it was reflected in his own. “I’m sure it’ll be easy enough to find. Do you know what it looks like?”

“It’s an old mahogany box, with a symbol carved on the front, almost like an incomplete game of hangman. I don’t really know how to describe it.” Nerd, Dean thought with a smile, of course that’s what Cas would compare it to. Of course it was.

The room went cold, Cas’ speeding breath misting the air, goose bumps appearing on his skin. Dean grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the way as a pile of boxes collapsed where he had just been standing. They fell to the floor, landing half on top of one another. Dean’s breath caught in his throat. Cas’ lips were so close to his own, he found himself leaning closer, before his brain kicked in and he jumped to his feet.

“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Cas didn’t miss a beat.

Dean rolled his eyes, ignoring the flush in his cheeks. He’d come so far from the timid boy in the oversized coat and the broken glasses who Dean had first met, he was confident now, sassy as hell, he probably knew Dean better than he did himself. Hell, he hadn’t even watched Star Wars until Dean had sat him down and forced him to watch the entire original trilogy in a single evening, now he could recite every word, even the crappy prequels. The bad jokes had been an unexpected side effect of his pop culture education.

“I really haven’t been a good influence on you have I?”

Cas choked out a laugh, and Dean looked at him in confusion.

“Just, the way you phrased that!” He was no less confused. “You see, in the Italian-“

A ghostly arm threw Cas across the room. Dean pulled the gun from his belt and shot a salt round at the transparent figure, which disappeared as the bullet made contact. He hurried across the room and helped Cas to his feet.

“Oh, it _was_ a gun.” Did Cas actually sound disappointed? “Why do you have a gun?”

“Long story.” Dean pulled his hand away, which had somehow ended up cupping the side of Cas’ face, and found his fingers covered in blood. “Shit, man, you’re bleeding.”

“Am I?” Cas felt his own head. “I suppose I must have landed harder than I thought. Can we please get rid of this ghost so we can sit down and watch horror movies?”

Dean shook his head. “Best get you patched up first.”

“But after that?” Cas looked hopeful. Dean chuckled.

“Sure, after that.”

He started searching through the boxes, Cas doing the same beside him. Icy hands clamped down on his shoulders, and threw Dean into the heap. He didn’t land particularly gracefully, but he was ninety percent sure he was unharmed. Before he could check for injuries his attention was caught by a dark wooden box lying beneath him. He grabbed it and slid back down to the floor.

“Cas, is this-“

“Dean!”

He was slammed into the wall before he could reach for his gun, but he kept his grip on the box. He pulled the salt from his pocket, uncapping it and throwing some at the ghost. In the precious few seconds before it could reappear, he took out his lighter, and lit the contents of the box on fire. He looked around for the burning ghost, listened for screams, but there was nothing.

Cas flew through the air, colliding with Dean, thankfully, rather than the wall. His body was warm against his, firmer than he’d imagined, no, wait, never imagined. He had never imagined that. Nope. _Keep telling yourself that Winchester_.

“I don’t think that worked.” Cas said drily. Dean put some distance between them, refusing to acknowledge the fact that killing aunt Amara wasn’t the only thing that hadn’t worked.

“No shit!” Dean finally managed to retrieve his gun, and shot the ghost as it lunged towards them, stomping out the fire before it could spread. “There must be something else.”

“What was in the box?”

“Some old documents, a few pictures.”

“There was jewellery. Perhaps my mom has it in her bedroom?”

They hurriedly climbed down the ladder, Dean determinedly keeping his eyes off the other boy’s ass, and raced into the bedroom. Dean started salting the doors while Cas sorted through his mother’s jewellery. He didn’t do it fast enough, and the ghost shoved him to the floor.

“Cas!”

“I’ve got it.” Cas pulled out an old locket, and Dean tossed him his lighter, ghostly hands wrapping around his neck.

“Hurry!” Dean choked out.

“Hey, assbutt.” Cas flicked on the lighter, and held the necklace over the flame.

Amara screamed and went up in flames. Dean gasped in air, collapsing back to the floor.

“Dean, are you alright?” Cas rushed over to him, warm hands finding his arms.

“Yeah, I’m used to it.” Dean stayed on the ground, giving himself that moment of contact for just a little longer. “Assbutt?”

“Hey, it’s been a stressful day for me.” Cas lay down beside him. “Ghosts. Ghosts are real. Ghosts are real and I just killed my aunt.”

“She was already dead. That wasn’t her, not really.”

“No, that was her. I’m honestly surprised she never tried to kill me while she was alive.”

Dean laughed, turning to look at Cas. He was so pale. Dean bolted upright.

“Shit! Your head.” He examined the wound, swallowing as he saw just how much blood was matted in Cas’ hair.

“You remember that time we thought it would be a good idea to get stoned before finals, and we ate all those brownies and nearly passed out?” Dean almost cracked a smile at the memory. “I feel like that.”

“Do you think you can stand?”

“Not sure, maybe there’s a big strong guy somewhere around here who could help me?”

“Stop talking.”

Dean put one of Cas’ arms around his shoulder, and manoeuvred him to his feet.

“But I wanna talk.”

Cas leaned into him, breathing heavily against Dean’s neck, inching further and further into his space.

“You’re completely out of it. You shouldn’t say anything you’ll regret.” Dean was honestly on the edge of a panic attack, Cas was injured and he was so close and it was so freaking wrong and-

“Won’t regret this.”

Cas pressed a kiss to his cheek, and Dean froze, his mind whirring to a halt, or rather cracking into a million tiny little pieces.

“Cas?”

“You’re so beautiful, you know? And kind, and brave. And now you fight monsters as well? Been wanting to tell you for years.” Only Cas could sound this sincere when he was on the edge of collapsing from lack of blood.

Dean shook himself; he had to get it together. He couldn’t let himself get distracted by Cas doing... whatever he was doing. The priority right now had to be Cas’ wellbeing.

“We can’t do this now. There’ll be plenty of time to talk later, when you’re not bleeding.”

“Won’t say it later, never say it.” Cas frowned.

Never say it? How long had he been thinking about this? Did he genuinely want- no, it was probably just because of the injury, he couldn’t be thinking straight, and Dean couldn’t let him do anything he’d regret.

“Maybe you don’t really want to say it.”

“No, pretty sure I do. Dean, I wanna be with you, in the biblical sense.” And there it was. Dean let out a hysterical laugh.

“Cas, you’re not well.”

If this got taken back he thought he might die, the more he said the more difficult it became for Dean to deny that he wanted, that he _needed_ -

“But you’re fiiiinnnee.” Cas woozily grinned.

Dean groaned, why was this the jackass he loved?

“I cannot believe you just said that.”

_Holy crap, loved?_ Why was this happening now? When he couldn’t trust that anything Cas said was true.

“If you don’t wanna, do, whatever, that’s okay. I wouldn’t hold it against you, but you know I- I always-”

“Cas, please, don’t do this now.” He said in a last ditch effort as he mentally imploded.

“Yes or no, it’s not that hard. We could have... coffee? Or pie. Fuck, pie!” Dean startled as the boy swore, it was such a rare occurrence. Before he could stop him Cas had extricated himself from his grip, and haphazardly stumbled into the kitchen. “God dammit!” He heard from the other room. He rounded the corner and found Cas staring in dismay at a blackened pie. “I wanted to make that for you.”

“For me?”

“I was going to invite you over and I thought maybe if I made you pie you’d finally decide to ask me out and now it’s ruined and-“

He’d been meaning to say all of this anyway. It was real. Dean thought his heart might have actually stopped beating.

“You made me pie.”

That was probably the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for him. He found himself drifting towards Cas, though he was fairly sure he hadn’t told his legs to move.

“I made you charcoal.” Cas glared down at the pie, as if it was the source of all evil, and damn if he didn’t look good when he was angry.

“I don’t care about the freaking pie!” Had those words seriously just come out of his mouth? That was probably the weirdest thing that had happened today, and it had been a really weird day.

“You sure I’m the one with the head injury?” No one knew him better than Cas, no one ever had.

“Okay, I care a little about the pie, but I care more about you. Cas, I need to take you to the hospital.” Dean put his hand on Cas’ arm, not sure if the speeding pulse he felt was Cas’ or his own.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He groaned at the petulance in Cas’ tone. There was no moving him when he sounded like that, he knew from experience.

“Why not?”

“I need you to say yes to coffee.” Cas looked unusually vulnerable, and Dean hated it.

“You are impossible!”

“You are deflecting.” The vulnerability was gone, replaced by a fierce determination.

Dean didn’t stand a chance.

“Fine! I’ll go out with you.”

Cas grinned, before putting a hand on the counter to stabilise himself as he swayed.

“I’m calling an ambulance.”

“I’m going out with Dean Winchester. I don’t care about my stupid head.”

“You know, you didn’t need to get a potentially deadly injury to get me to say yes. I would have gone out with you anyway, if you’d just asked.” He only realised the words were true as he spoke them. How long had he been wanting this? How had he managed not to notice all of these years? Freaking moron. Freaking moron who was going out with Castiel Novak. All of a sudden he was grinning right back.

“You two are disgusting.” Dean turned in surprise at Gabriel’s voice, pulling away from Cas, only to instantly return his arms to steady him as he began to sway again.

“Finally!” Sam spoke up beside him.

“Which one of you fessed up first? See I have this bet with Samshine and I could really use the twenty bucks.”

“You had a bet about this?” Dean gawked at him.

“Damn right I did Deana. You and big bro over there been making googly eyes at each other since the dawn of existence.”

Dean began to wonder if he really _was_ the one with the head injury, because this had to all be some kind of elaborate hallucination.

“Is Cas bleeding?” Sam chipped in.

“Why are you bleeding?”

Dean held Cas closer, taking most of his weight as his legs stopped holding him up.

“We have not been making googly eyes.” Cas sent a somewhat bleary glare in Gabe’s direction, apparently he wasn’t able to stand upright, but he was still absolutely capable of conducting an argument with his brother, a fact that Dean found almost painfully endearing; in the small part of his brain that wasn’t solely occupied by worry.

“Can I please call that ambulance?!” _He was not going to lose Cas to a freaking head wound_ , not now, not ever if he could help it.

“Yeah yeah, you or Cas?”

“It was Cas, okay?” Dean dug out his phone and dialled the emergency number. Was he seriously the only person still thinking straight is this damn stupid conversation?

“Dammit Dean! I believed in you!” Gabe handed twenty bucks to Sam, who crowed in delight. Now that got Dean’s attention.

“You bet against me? I cannot believe you!” He barked at Sam, who didn’t look even remotely apologetic.

“Nine one one emergency, how can I help?” A voice rang out from the other end of the phone.

Dean flushed crimson as he organised an ambulance. He listened to Cas give a dishonest explanation for the injury as they waited for the vehicle to arrive, silently thanking him for having the lingering good sense to not tell his little brother the truth.

“So what I’m hearing is that neither of you would have ever got around to asking each other out if Cas hadn’t got a concussion?” Sam laughed.

“I’m not sure I have a concussion.”

“You definitely have a concussion, but I would have done eventually!” Dean was trying to persuade himself more than Sam. Sam was, as usual, impossible to fool.

“Would not!”

Dean ungraciously conceded the point.

“Oh yeah, and you’re so good at this.”

“Dean-“ Sam began.

“How long’ve you been pining over Gabe and doin’ nothing ‘bout it?”

Sam and Gabe both stared at him, before breaking into laughter.

“Dean, we’ve been going out for months.” Sam snorted.

Now it was Dean’s turn to stare, suddenly noticing that some of the makeup from Sam’s face had transferred to Gabe’s. So apparently it wasn’t just his self awareness, and his ability to man up and confess that he actually had feelings about anything that were missing, but he was also halfway blind. Fan-freaking-tastic.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

It stung. He knew they’d never talked about it, but he’d hoped that Sam felt comfortable enough with him to let him know that he was dating a guy. He didn’t think he was homophobic, did he? No, that was ridiculous. If Sam knew about his feelings for Cas he couldn’t possibly think that. So what new hell-

“We thought you knew. You really thought I’d have gone to that carnival if it hadn’t been a date? There were clowns there!”

Gabe took Sam’s hand, patting it reassuringly. Dean looked suspiciously at the flour covering both of their clothes.

“I-“ Dean’s sentence was thankfully cut off by sirens outside.

“Don’t worry Dean, I didn’t know either.” Cas pecked him on the cheek, somehow quieting all his worries, and shakily walked towards the door, Dean quickly moved to steady him.

“Don’t do anything inappropriate while we’re gone, and if either of you gets into trouble for whatever you were up to earlier I am not saving you!” Dean called over his shoulder.

“Can’t make any promises.” Sam called back.

“I am not okay with this.” Dean muttered to Cas.

“They’ll be fine.”

And they were, when they finally returned from the hospital, which had been far too busy for Dean’s comfort, they found their brothers curled up on the couch, asleep amongst a sea of candy wrappers. Dean rolled his eyes and tidied up the mess, then followed Cas upstairs.

“Okay, horror movies.” Cas announced determinedly, collapsing down on the bed and picking up his laptop.

“You’re not too tired?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions. Get into my bed Dean Winchester.”

Dean flushed, but moved into the space Cas cleared for him.

“Happy Halloween.”

“That’s not really something people-“

He yelped as Cas cut him off, silencing him with a kiss.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right. Happy Halloween.” Dean breathed.

Cas smiled and snuggled into his side.

Halfway through the first film Dean’s arm somehow found its way around Cas’ shoulder, by the second Cas was asleep on his chest, and by the third he was asleep as well.

When they were woken up by snickering siblings the next day Dean couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad.

Cas rolled over with a groan, and Dean kissed the glare off his face, throwing a pillow in the general direction of the door when Sam and Gabe both started making gagging noises.

“Get a room.” Gabe snarked.

“I have one, and you’re in it. Get out or be traumatised for life.”

Cas pulled Dean into another kiss to illustrate the point, which, judging by the hurriedly retreating footsteps, had the desired effect. Cas pulled away and smiled in a self satisfied kind of way.

“Have I mentioned you’re cute when you’re grumpy?”

“Have I mentioned you’re loud and annoying?” Cas grumped, retreating back under the covers.

“What happened to beautiful, kind, brave? Have we already passed the honeymoon phase of the relationship? Was that it? Because I gotta say, that was disappointingly short lived.”

“Get back under the covers before I change my mind.”

Cas pulled him back into bed and Dean laughed lightly.

“Why are you so damn cheerful?”

Dean settled under the covers, curling up beside Cas, an arm draped around his middle.

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

Cas moved closer, leaning his forehead against Dean’s as he closed his eyes. Dean realised, with a jolt, that he was happy.

“ _Why shouldn’t I be?_ ” He quietly echoed, speaking to himself more than anything else, before drifting back to sleep.


End file.
